Monsters
by TTRAnimus
Summary: Mikey is attacked by an unknown assailant and changed into a zombie-like creature who wants to change Raph. Can the brothers keep Raph safe and save Mikey at the same time, or will they have to give up one for the other? MikeyxRaph
1. Change

_Italics_ are flashbacks

**Bold** is thought

Warnings: Blood, Gore. Mikey/Raph onesided

Disclaimer: I do not own the TMNT. The show would be on adult swim with vampires, blood, and even more gore if I owned it (WHICH I DON'T!)

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''_Hey Donnie, could zombies be real?" a twelve-year-old Mikey asked his older brother Don._

_They were at the lair, watching a new horror movie that they had rented. It was all about zombies, and it was gory, which scared the youngest turtle. However, he wanted to keep watching the movie so did not make a move to get the remote. Mikey did wish that they hadn't put so much blood into the movie even though it was so fake it looked like ketchup. He looked over at his obviously overworked brother with a curious eye. Mikey had dragged the techno turtle from his new makeshift lab in order to relax him. It was obvious to everyone that Don was at the end of his wire, and he needed to have a bit of fun. __**I don't think he's having any yet…**__ Mikey though to himself with a groan. The plan was not working!_

"_Mikey, it's impossible to reanimate dead flesh, you know that. So no, they aren't real." Donatello replied with impatience lining his words. _

_The second youngest turtle had been dragged out of his room, during one of his projects, and had been forced to watch a video with his younger brother. On days where he did not have something to do, the purple-cladded ninja would not have been annoyed at watching a bad horror flick with his younger sibling. Today, though, was not one of those "okay" days. He was overloaded, with people breaking stuff all over the place and new ideas for inventions popping into his head every couple of minutes. It was torture! Donatello looked over at the remote, wishing that he could just grab the remote selfishly and turn off the TV so that he could go back to work. Looking over at Mikey, though, he gave a sigh and crossed his arms with the realization that he could not do something that hurtful to Mikey. He was his little brother after all. _

"_Should I still put a stake under my pillow, though? Just in case?" Mikey asked, giving the fake scared expression that he used to make everyone laugh._

"_Those are for vampires, Mikey, not zombies…" Don laughed, relaxing a bit at Mikey's naivete when it came to mythological creatures. _

**There are such creatures…** Mikey thought in horror and fear, near to silence of his mouth did not do anything for long, though. Soon there were screams, bursts of pained yells that pierced the frenzied New York air like bullets into a helpless body. Normally, the orange clad turtle on the roof of a building in the less wealthy part of New York would have run towards those screams, but not today. On this particular midnight, Michelangelo Hamato was the one who was screaming. He had no idea where the shadow figure in front of him had come from or why it was punching and clawing into the turtle like an animal, but compared to fighting for survival, those questions were stupid. Michelangelo's blood dripped onto the dark cement roofing of the building, making small, black ponds on the gray surface. He swung his nunchakus at the figure, hearing small whacks and even a few large ones as he drove the creature back and took the upper hand. However, it was not even a few seconds before the monster conquered the young turtle again, driving him near the edge of the building.

"Lay off, dude…" Mikey growled through clenched teeth as he felt his feet move backwards unwillingly.

The animal said nothing, deep growls being only the reply to Mikey's own growl. His punches and kicks increased in rapidity and power, forcing the turtle backwards and backwards towards the small ledge that separated anyone from a nasty fall into a semi-hidden, dark alleyway. It was not long until Mikey's feet scratched that ledge. The scratching sensation on the calloused feet of the youngest turtle was not for long, though, as a hand barrelled into his plasteron. Giving a weak cry, Mikey felt his arms scrambling in the air for some unknown thing to grab his arm and hoist him up, dropping his nunchakus in the process. It was futile to do that, he realized with a loud cry, because he was already halfway down to an almost certain death.

"_You will have to remember to land gracefully if you fall," Mikey barely heard Leonardo tell them._

_Splinter-Junior, as Raphael called him sometimes, was in charge of the 13-year-old turtles today, including training, due to Splinter's sudden illness. The leader did not complain about such responsibility, he was the leader after all, but Michelangelo knew that he was stressed. Taking care of brothers could do that, the youngest turtle knew, especially when the brothers included Raphael. No matter how much he felt for his oldest sibling, Mikey could not help but think that Leonardo was one of the most boring teachers ever in existence. __**Good thing this guy doesn't actually teach… **__Mikey thought to himself, giving a bit of a laugh as the thought raced through his brain like cold water. _

_He did not pay attention to Leonardo's demonstrations on landing, too focused on when the next couple of issues of comic books would be in. Mikey did not hear Leonardo telling them how to do it and then asking for them to try it. The only thing that brought the orange-wearing turtle out of his daydream was a whack on the back of his head. It was a whack that could only be performed by his second-oldest brother, Raphael._

_Mikey, eventually, was forced to try the landing by his brothers, even though he had not learned how..._

_Practice session ended when the turtle broke both legs by accident while trying to land._

The fall from the building had not been a graceful fall.

The shadow figure, meanwhile, studied the broken body of the turtle below and licked his full set of fangs like an animal right before he mates. He raised his barely bruised and scratched right arm to his mouth, those horrible set of fangs, and bit his arm roughly. Blood from his arm started to pour out in a way similar to a falling cascade as he gave a small hiss, jumping off from the building. The specter landed next to Michelangelo, nuzzling his soon-to-be mate's throat lovingly before biting it passionately. Michelangelo was still partially conscious during this biting, gasping in horror and pleasure, somehow. The nearly dead wrist, meanwhile, bequeathed its black elixir on Mikey's plasteron and where his wounds were the worst.

The blood sank into now willing flesh, but it caused the helpless turtle to start having a seizure of sorts. The figure kept his teeth in the turtle's neck and his one good arm on the Mikey's chest to keep his new mate from hurting himself during the change. This desire to keep his mate unhurt was not a personal choice, but just an instinct. Still, instinct or love aside, the specter kept Mikey under his control as the turtle gave silent shrieks. The new black blood was circling in his veins, destroying the delicately mutated blood in the frenzy of a mass slaughter. This painful process continued as the sea green turtle burst into even more severe spasms that nearly threw off his attacker. His skin lightened extremely, the green nearly draining completely out of now cold skin as all of his wounds started to heal. The bruises lightened as the bleeding under the skin was consumed in the fire of unfeeling onyx blood. There was still pain though as Michelangelo teeth fell out and were replaced by sharp, shark-like fangs that were very similar to the specter's own teeth. Blue eyes, which held so much innocence, turned into a corrupt pinkish purple. As the spasms started to subside, the figure stopped biting Mikey's neck and stood up, blood still draining out of his, at this instant, shriveled wrist. He just looked accusingly at the turtle, as if it was the turtle's fault that he had come and bestowed this gift. Mikey looked at him back, raising himself off of the ground slightly, crying out in pain as he opened his eyes fully. Everything looked so dull to newly innocent eyes, so lifeless, except for the live creatures around him. They were shining jewels in grayish tones, their hair shining like diamonds while their blood was molten gold. The specter did not look like the rats around him did, and he instinctively knew that he, himself, was just as dull in his creator's eyes. The figure put an unnaturally white hand on Mikey's own clawed turtle hand, looking into the same colored eyes.

Without a sound, the calming hand was removed from the turtle's hand and the cold immediately swept in. Mikey shivered, feeling his mate leaving just as sudden as he had come. He found himself alone and felt pure fear because he did not know what to do. Mikey's new blood gave him the strength to eventually stand up, and to move. It was like getting up in the morning, that essential queasiness and motor deadening that comes from being still all night. Just as in waking, he started to feel that adrenaline rush that comes with finally getting out of bed. The senses awoke, and Mikey started to smell blood, even feel it coursing under his fingertips like a never ending waterfall of pleasure. What was even more powerful then his black blood was the blood from the innocents that were walking around at night. It was an intoxicating smell, a smell that he wanted so badly, but did not need. He did not need anything, anymore really, he also instinctively knew.

"Michel…Mikey…angelo…" Mikey creaked out of dead lips, his mouth forming an "O" as he moved back slowly.

Even in this state, he knew he had to be in the shadows. Someone had told him that it was dangerous to walk amongst the bright, human, angels. It was a person who used to be very important to him. Mikey put both of his clawed hands on his face and let out another scream, though he did not wish it. The talons sunk into his face like needles and black blood fell to the ground. A foreign voice pierced the air…louder, louder, and louder. It was screaming, his own blood-curdling scream. He couldn't stop screeching as he effortlessly jumped up to the top of the building that he had, unknown to him, been pushed off from. Michelangelo could not have done that before, but he could now due to his new body. He did not think about what he had done though, instead the animal ran. An animal loose in the city; a hunt was now on…

"_Donnie, should I keep some kind of protection on me for zombies?"_

"_No."_

Donatello was wrong.

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So… that's my first chapter of this ficcy! Don't worry if you don't get why Mikey is out alone uptop in the middle of the night because there is going to be a second chapter.

Read and Review, please! ^^


	2. Missing

_Italics_ are flashbacks

**Bold** is thought

Warnings: Blood, Gore, Language. Mentions of Mikey/Leo

Disclaimer: See CH 1

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In the lair, things were not as dark as they were on the street. The bright electric light in the dojo seemed to be almost too bright as Raphael punched the worn canvas of his punching bag. With every punch he gave to the bag, he could see his brother's horrified face. His horrified face that had come with what Raphael had spoken to the youngest turtle. Giving a savage growl, fist connected to canvas as the red-cladded turtle yelled loud enough to wake the dead. The punching bag swayed dangerously, forcing the tired, sweating turtle to grab it in order to stop the swinging. While he had been "training", Raphael thought that their lair was silent, but he was wrong. Now that the fierce pounding of his heart had stopped, he heard the television blaring out the news to no one in particular. His sais on his belt was colder then the next few thoughts that came into his head. Mikey must have left it on before he left, Raphael thought to himself, turning around to face the door out of the dojo. The orange turtle almost never left the TV on; he always turned it off! Raphael suddenly wanted to just leave the lair for a bit, maybe fight a few people with Casey. However, the blue wearing turtle standing in the middle of the doorway seemed intent on stopping him. This wouldn't keep Raphael from trying to push past him, though. He was always the stubborn one.

"What are you doing here? Come to give me another one of your god damn lectures for the fifty millionth time?" Raphael asked angrily as he strode over to the doorway and attempted to push past the older turtle.

"No, just to get some answers. What happened?" Leonardo asked, his voice cold yet concerned for Mikey and Raph. Those two were the closest amongst the brothers; it was very unusual for them to get seriously angry at one another.

"Not your buisness, Splinter Junior," Raphael bit back as he glared daggers at his brother for being so curious.

"How is it not my business, Raph? Mikey RAN from the lair, CRYING. He's my brother too believe it or not!" Leonardo shot back with the same angry tone that laced Raphael's voice.

"He'll get over it!" Raphael replied coldly. He bit his lower lip as he realized how cold his words actually were and looked down.

Leonardo did not move, though his eyes indicated he was shocked. **He's never heard me like that before, well…at least when it came to topics involved with Don or Mikey, **Raph thought to himself. Giving a small curse word to himself, he pushed past his older brother and moved into the main lair. All he needed was some punks to beat up with Casey and a beer to pass the time. Raphael convinced himself that Mikey would probably think it was a prank and return home after letting off a bit of his emotions as he went over to the coat stand. The coat stand was right next to the door and held an assortment of trench coats and brown fedora hats. After a while, almost all the turtles knew instinctively which one was theirs. Mikey's usually was crumpled on the ground carelessly, for instance, while Leo's was always too perfectly on the rack. If Raphael had not been so keen on leaving, he would have laughed at that thought. Leo's forceful orders to stay at home were unheard by the red-cladded turtle as he grabbed the torn-up trench coat and dirty fedora hat that belonged to him. Raphael put on the coat and opened the door to the sewer, stepping through with an angry sigh as he started to walk over to where the nearest manhole was. The sooner he was in a fight, the better.

As it turned out, it took a shorter amount of time then it usual did to reach Casey's place. It was only twenty minutes or so after his blowup with Leo that he was laughing with the vigilante. The smell and taste of beer was like an exotic candy to Raphael as he soaked all of it in. He had been introduced to beer accidentally when he was twelve because he had seen some kids his age do it. Raphael had seen them do many other things, many illegal things, but he could not imitate them except in one field – drinking. His early binges had had a negative effect on the young turtle, making him sloppy in fighting. The binge drinking had made him so sloppy that Don had forced the freedom loving turtle to stay in the lair because the smart turtle had thought he was sick. After his "discharge", Raphael had majorly curtailed his drinking. He actually had been on the verge of stopping his drinking habit forever before Casey came in with his cheap liquor. Now he was sitting in Casey's apartment, drinking himself nearly to death in an attempt to forget what had happened only a few hours prior.

"Hey Case, what do you do if you tell some one something really, really bad?" Raphael asked, looking over at his drunken friend as he took a swallow of beer.

"Apologize, idiot. Surely it can't be bad enough for a "sorry" not to fix it," Casey replied with a belch that made Raphael laugh.

"I'm shit well above "sorry", moron," Raphael replied with laughter still ringing in the air.

"I'M the moron? You said something, not me," Casey did not hesitate to bite back, dropping the beer bottle to the hardwood floor.

Beer splashed onto the hardwood floor and over his sais on the junkie coffee table in front of him, and Raphael knew this was the reason why the floors and furniture were always sticky. They did not clean up at all, especially when it came to spilt beer. The hotheaded turtle gave a groan, putting his own beer bottle on the table as he watched the television. He remembered it was hockey night, and Casey's favorite team just happened to be winning. Raphael winced when Casey jumped off of the sofa and began cursing at the losing team for scoring a goal. He was not in the mood for hockey right now, and definitely not in the mood for Casey's whack job advice. Even though it was pretty dark, the turtle could see the grayish walls that plagued the apartment. God does this guy need some sort of interior decorator, Raphael thought to himself with a small internal snicker. He admired the guy for his fighting skills, but for nothing else- including his sense of style. Raphael stood up off of the stained, dark tan couch and turned towards his friend.

"Well, heading out to get a lecture from Mr. Fearless Leader himself," Raph sighed, annoyed half to death. He knew he was going to get it once he got home, especially if Mikey wasn't there.

"Eh, gotta listen to the music one of these days," Casey shrugged with a hidden chuckle underneath those eyes.

"God, you're going to be telling me to obey his every word next," Raph snarled lightheartedly.

Raphael laughed, turning towards the door and heading on outside. The bright yellow walls of the dingy apartment complex made him glad that he was living in a home for free. Raphael knew that if he was a human, he might have had to live in a place like this. Raphael's thoughts did not linger on this, though, as he moved silently, avoiding everyone in the building. It was suprising that they had never noticed him because a walking, talking mutated turtle was not exactly normal. Then again, these people had probably seen the many alien invasions and just thought that the turtle was a nutzo pretending to be an alien. It reminded him of the fact that gang people, and even normal ones, usually thought that he and his brothers were wearing turtle costumes. Speaking of people to beat up, he wished that he had had enough time to go and maybe fight a few purple dragons, but he was getting the itching feeling that something was wrong. He exited the complex with a sigh, going into the shadows and heading towards an alleyway around two blocks from Casey's house. It was where the nearest manhole was. Raphael was in such a hurry to go that he forgot his sais on the table back at Casey's place. His weapons were not even on his mind as he hurried down a dark alleyway only a block or two from his friend's apartment. Raphael was getting that natural instinct to run anywhere but this alleyway. This sense was only heightened once he smelled blood. The scent of the stuff did not disgust him at all, however, because he had smelled it so many times on the battlefield. It was surprising that he had caught the scent at all because the turtle was so used to it. Raphael walked deeper into the alleyway, despite his natural instinct shrieking at him, like a person yelling at a character on the television, to run away. Curiosity had grabbed his mind though, and he continued on, getting a bit more anxious at every step.

Raphael could not help a gasp of air that left his lips as he saw a very familiar pair of nunchakus, nunchakus that were covered in crispy red blood. **Mikey…! **Raphael thought when he ran, dropped to his knees, and grabbed the cherished weapons with shaky hands as he looked around in a circle for a body. There was no one there, and as well as not even one clue to point that there was a body there, alive or dead. The same thought repeated in his head as he gave an audible moan, worry coming to the surface. Anger started to surface too, a type of possessive anger that had also grabbed him when Leonardo had been hurt by the Shredder. Part of him wanted to try and figure out what had happened to Mikey on his own, while the other part wanted to see if his brothers could help. If he had been younger, Raph might have gone with the second choice, but he was older now…more experienced. Feeling nauseous, the turtle got to his feet with hatred burning inside of him like a wildfire. A hatred of anyone who would hurt his youngest brother and his best friend. The mutant turtle ran for the nearest manhole on the alleyway opposite this one while he jumped from shadow to shadow like a cat. He clutched his brother's nunchakus in his arms as if his brother's very life depending on holding those weapons. Raphael was nearly about to jump into the open manhole when he felt a shiver go down his spine. Someone was following him, someone in the shadows. Raphael reached for his sais, but did not feel them in his belt. **Damn!** He thought angrily, and clenched his hands into fists, waiting for a fight. A fight did not come, though, only blinding pain in his head, and the tangy smell of his own blood.

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Read and Review, please?


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